


In Which Frank Has Pretty Eyes And Mikey Has A Unicorn On His Notebook

by chzo_mythos



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:53:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chzo_mythos/pseuds/chzo_mythos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank's eyes are not brown. They are not green. They are not hazel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Frank Has Pretty Eyes And Mikey Has A Unicorn On His Notebook

**Author's Note:**

> Swearing, handy jay, mention of sex, I use the word "fag" and "gay" a lot.

Ever since Mikey met Frank, he’s been mesmerized by his eyes, wide when he stuck out his hand, smile playing on his lips, the weird introduction of _‘I like the unicorn on your notebook’_ and Mikey’s _‘uh, thanks I guess’_ still hanging in the air between them in their Econ classroom. 

They’re not green, but they’re not brown, and they’re not really hazel either. They’re just. Golden. This odd mix of every warm color in existence, and they do this kind of sparkle thing whenever Frank smiles (which is _a lot_ , Mikey noticed as they became actual friends).

He can honestly lose himself in them, and does, frequently, and how fucking gay is that? Mikey definitely isn’t partial to a little cock now and then, but _come on_ , Frank’s eyes are just like anyone else’s, just eyes. Organs that detect light and convert it to electro-chemical impulses in neurons, just. Eyes. 

They’re hanging out one day (which, okay, they basically hang out every day, they _are_ roommates, whatever), Frank sitting on the floor, playing on the XBOX, Mikey on the couch, legs on either side of Frank, leaning back into the soft brown cushion.

“The White Queen or Poison Ivy?” Frank asks, growling a little when Chuck pretty much gets raped by the hoard of zombies.

Mikey scoffs, blowing his hair out of his eyes.

“Please, Pamela Lillian Isley. Emma Frost is such a frigid ice bitch.” And with anyone else, except, maybe, Gerard, Mikey would feel like a total nerd, knowing the real names of comic characters, but he really kind of doesn’t when Frank laughs and lays his head back on Mikey’s knee.

“Yeah, but she’s a hot frigid ice bitch.”

And his eyes are doing that sparkly thing again and Mikey has to use all his willpower to shrug his shoulders and avert his eyes to the screen, where Chuck is once again getting eaten by a vicious pack of infected casino goers.

Frank doesn’t seem to mind as much anymore.

\---

That night Mikey dreams about Franks eyes, equating them to honey and proceeding to pop them out of Frank’s head and devour them, and while he has no desire to eat Frank’s eyeballs, no, he thinks honey might be a good description (not that, you know, he’s thought about ways to describe Frank’s eyes, or whatever. They really aren’t that big of deal). Mikey asks him about his eyes, later that day when they’re at Starbucks, Frank on his laptop working to finish his paper for Sociology, Mikey just letting the warmth of his coffee cup heat his frozen fingers.

“Frank?”

He makes an affirmative noise, letting Mikey know he’s listening, but doesn’t look up, typing furiously.

“What color would you say your eyes are?”

This time Frank does look at Mikey, raising an eyebrow and scratching his head.

“I ‘unno. Brown I guess.”

“Wrong.” Mikey says, almost immediately, regretting it as soon as it slips out, wanted to physically grab the words and capture them before they reach Frank’s ears. Frank raises an eyebrow again but goes back to work, shrugging faintly.

“Alright.”

Mikey takes a sip of his coffee.

\---

They’re lying in Mikey’s bed that next night, Saturday. Frank’s kind of drunk, but really, so is Mikey, and they’re half kissing (there’s too much giggling and hiccups for it to be _actual_ kissing, so) and Mikey knows he’s tenting, and he’s pretty sure Frank is too, but instead he pulls away from Frank and pushes him onto his back, straddling him. He brings a hand up to his forehead and brushes Frank’s hair out of his eyes, muttering _‘pretty’_ when they flutter open against his wrist.

“Mmm.” Frank says, neither agreeing nor disagreeing as he ruts up against Mikey’s hip.

\---

Thy wake up together, which isn’t exactly new—the ‘best friend’ barrier has never really applied to them, especially when they’re both wasted and hard. Mikey’s the first to open his eyes, struggling to remember what happened. He doesn’t, but he pieces things together when he feels Frank, heavy on top of him, boxers halfway off his hips, drooling on Mikey’s chest. Mikey groans, annoyed, not sexy, and slaps the back of Frank’s head. Frank mumbles against the slick part of Mikey’s chest, eyes fluttering open, eyelashes tickling Mikey’s skin. He looks up at Mikey, and Mikey kind of struggles to breathe (seriously, he feels like such a fag). Frank’s about to yell at Mikey about how he shouldn’t abuse his friends when he notices the drool puddle on Mikey’s chest and giggles, moving off of Mikey lazily, sliding his mouth along Mikey’s skin as he goes. He rolls so that he’s next to Mikey, staring up at him with sleepy eyes. 

“Sup, dude?”

Mikey grunts, another annoyed, not sexy thing, and wipes his hand across his chest, bringing it to Frank’s shoulder and sliding it all down his arm, ink shining. Frank just giggles. 

“You were awesome last night.” Frank says, yawning and snuggling into Mikey’s pillow—his Pikachu pillow, seriously, he is the biggest geek this side of Gerard Way and his fucking Star Wars bed sheets (he’s 27, for fucks sake). Mikey scoffs and turns his head, having to concentrate on what he wants to say rather than Frank’s _honey_ colored eyes.

“You don’t even remember last night.”

Frank smiles and shrugs his shoulders as best he can against the sheets.

“To the contrary, Mikeyway. I remember lots of things.”

Mikey makes another noise, low in his throat, which is a little sexy, Frank thinks, but Mikey didn’t mean it to be. 

“Yeah.” Frank says, leaning his head on his hand, propped up by his elbow, sinking into Pikachu’s tail.

“Like” He starts, trailing fingers up Mikey’s taunt stomach, Mikey doesn’t shiver, but he has to try not to.

“I remember that we fucked last night. And—”

Mikey scoffs.

“I could have told you that.”

“—and” Frank continues, “I remember that I tripped when trying to get my boxers back on. And that you passed out during your orgasm. And—”

“I did not pass—”

“— _and_ ” Frank says, poking Mikey’s ribs to make him know to shut up, “I remember you said my eyes were pretty.”

Mikey can feel the color rising in his cheeks and knows Frank’s got him. Frank smiles, so Mikey knows that _Frank_ knows, that he’s got him.

“What’s the deal, Mikeyway? They’re just eyes.”

Mikey shrugs and turns away.

“I know. I…I know.”

Frank turns onto his side, hand on Mikey’s hip.

“They’re just. Pretty. Like, honey. Or. Golden, or something.”

“Hazel?” Frank supplies, fingers dancing lazily on Mikey’s hipbone. 

“No.” Mikey says, kind of to no one. 

“Oh?” Frank asks, kissing the back of Mikey’s neck.

“My eyes are hazel, Frank.” Mikey sighs into his not-Pikachu pillow.

“Yours are….yours are different. They’re, like. Special. I kind of…” he trails off, mumbling into the soft cotton.

“What was that?” Frank teases, squeezing Mikey’s hip.

Mikey sighs.

“I said…I kind of. Lose myself. In them, sometimes.”

Everything seems to pause for a moment, Frank’s hands stop moving, and the breath against Mikey’s neck seems to stop. Then, things resume, sudden and sure. Frank smiles against Mikey’s neck and slinks the hand on his hip into Mikey’s boxers, stroking until he’s fully hard, kissing the junction between Mikey’s neck and shoulder.

“You’re so fucking gay, Mikes.”

Mikey groans, annoyed again, but kind of sexy when Frank’s hand makes contact with his dick. Frank stops again, breathing, moving, everything, and just stills. Then, sudden and sure, he grabs Mikey’s shoulder and pulls him onto his back, straddling him, and resumes stroking, eyes locking with Mikey’s. 

And Mikey cums like that, biting his lip as he whimpers, eyes wide to stop from closing, Frank’s honeygoldenwarmperfect eyes sparkling. He pants for an embarrassing minute or so before he has half a mind to reach down and palm Frank through his boxers, eyebrows furrowing when he feels that Frank isn’t hard, and there’s a wet spot on the front of his boxers. Frank smiles, eyes doing that fucking sparkly thing again as he moves off of Mikey, head automatically laying on Mikey’s slightly sweaty chest, in favor of the Pikachu pillow.

“Nah, I’m good, man.”

Mikey opens his mouth to say something, closes it, and shakes his head. Frank giggles into his chest.

“What?”

Frank stares up at him, and this time Mikey actually does stop breathing.

“You just got off to my eyes, dude.” 

Mikey groans, incredibly unsexy, and slaps the back of Frank’s head again, losing himself as Frank just laughs and kisses Mikey’s collarbone, eyes open. And yeah, okay. Mikey’s alright with being kind of ridiculously gay when it comes to Frank’s eyes, as long as no one else knows. Last thing Mikey needs is Pete or Gabe taunting him about it (though, really, he could bring up Pete’s furry thing, or Gabe’s creepy boat sex fixation). So, yeah. Everything is pretty okay, you know. Until Gerard finds out, but he figures he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.


End file.
